


Plants and Plans

by MathConcepts



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathConcepts/pseuds/MathConcepts
Summary: One of Crowely's shenanigans involves plants that are not his, and one reluctantly amused angel.





	Plants and Plans

Crowely stared down at the small silken ribbon in his hand, running his thumb idly over it. His latest escapade would be somewhat of a challenge to explain to Hell, but before he had to face Beelzebub's diminutive figure, a glass of wine or two be quite welcome, he reasoned.   
  
He arrived at Aziraphale's bookshop sometime later, riding in on the crest of a high-speed pursuit. Being chased by several angry policemen was fun at the start, he had goaded them on, he would admit, but it soon became boring. He could hear the sirens wailing their way down the opposite road as he entered the bookshop. 

* * *

  
  
  
"Aziraphale?" he called, weaving his way through the stacks and shelves of books to the small back room that contained the angel in question.  
  
"Crowely!" Aziraphale greeted brightly, his blue eyes darting up from the book that lay open on his desk to regard the demon.  
  
"Do you have any wine?" Crowely asked without preamble, sprawling himself over the plump couch that was squashed into a corner, pulling his glasses off and tossing them somewhere among the cushions.  
  
"Oh, I have just the thing." Aziraphale said, rising and rambling off the date and name of some vintage wine. Crowely didn't bother to listen too closely, if it had been picked by Aziraphale, the wine would be good.  
  
And so it was.   
  
Aziraphale filled the glasses, and Crowely's slitted pupils became just a bit more bigger when the angel handed him one. It was a dark and smooth liquid, sweet, that left a pleasant burn down the back of Crowely's throat.   
  
"So, what brings you here?" Aziraphale said conversationally, swirling the wine in his own glass gently before sipping it.  
  
Crowely drained his before answering.  
  
"Oh, I'm just wondering how to explain to Hell how a, ah, ah, uh, bloody gardening contest can be the source of unimaginable evil." Crowely shrugged, snagging the wine bottle off Aziraphale's desk and pouring himself a liberal helping.  
  
Aziraphale blinked.  
  
"Gardening contest?" he said, pronouncing the words carefully.  
  
"Yes, angel. Gardening contest." Crowely said, sliding the now much lighter wine bottle in between the sofa cushions in lieu of a cupholder. Aziraphale retrieved the bottle, restoring it to its position of glory on his desk. "Imagine this, angel. A bunch of old ladies tearing each other apart over whose potted plant is the tallest, or some bollocks."

Aziraphale's eyes landed on the bit of ribbon that was trailing out from the pocket of Crowely's jeans.  
  
"Oh, _Crowely._ " the angel sighed. "What did you do?" Crowely grinned at him over the rim of his glass.  
  
"Just my job, angel. I spread chaos and violence, father against son, mother against daughter and all that." he muttered through a mouthful of wine.  
  
"By a gardening contest?" Aziraphale said. "That's a new one. However did you make it work?"  
  
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in hearing about my evil work." Crowely said, his voice too serious to be well, serious, gesturing for the wine bottle as he spoke. Aziraphale handed it back to him with a small smile.   
  
"I would like to hear it-for business purposes, of course. It'll help me to thwart you better." the angel added. Crowely snorted.  
  
"Suit yourself, angel." he said. "So, I had bought a new plant a couple weeks back..."

* * *

  
_**Two weeks earlier -** _  
  
  
The plant was nice, even Crowely would admit that. It was rather on the small side for a plant of its kind, with shiny, spear shaped leaves, and budding flowers that were a peculiar shade of cream. None of Crowely's current plants possessed flowers, but this plant was destined to be the lone exception. Maybe the cream-colored flowers reminded Crowely of a certain cream-colored coat, or maybe they didn't.  
  
The reason Crowley had for picking the plant, or the reason the demon gave himself, was that the plant was entirely too small, and needed someone to take it in hand. So  Crowely had took it, included it in his collection of houseplants, and summarily yelled at it for a steady half hour.  
  
The next day, it was precisely half an inch bigger than it had been the day before - Crowely had measured it - and its leaves were just a little greener. Pleased by his success, Crowely took a cruise down to Aziraphale's bookshop. The angel wasn't there, it was early morning, and so the angel was likely out breakfasting.   
  
Crowely flipped over the closed sign and made himself at home in the bookshop, committing petty acts of evil such as hiding books under other books, and misplacing Aziraphale's favorite mug.  
  
There was a large stack of mail gathering dust on the floor by the door, and Crowely sifted through it - it was mostly catalogs and correspondences from private collectors,  but down, at the bottom of the stack, there was a laminated sheet of paper. Crowely perused it, his eyebrows raising.   
  
Interesting.  
  
There was going to be a gardeneng contest in St. James' park. Aziraphale had no interest for those types of things, his foremost love being for his books. Crowely however - Crowely was thinking of the luxurious green of his houseplants.  
  
Surely his plants would put all others to shame. And seeing how he was behind on his quota for evil deeds, he supposed he could fill the gaps in his ledger by sowing some envy among the horticulturists of London. He tucked the sheet of paper in his pocket and darted out of the bookshop.

 

* * *

  
  
Crowely paced back and forth in front of his plants, his hands clasped behind his back in a way that was meant to make himself more imposing. "You have a job to do." he began. "And if you fail me...the consequences will be dire."  
  
  
  
 


End file.
